


Beginning at an End

by TriDom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Chris, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Heat Sex, Human!Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Infertility, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega!Stiles, mentions of past Miscarriage, omega!Peter, stetopher week 2016, werewolf!Chris, werewolf!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:05:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8414881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom/pseuds/TriDom
Summary: After years of struggling with infertility and accepting that they would never have children, Peter and Chris met and fell in love with Stiles. Five years later, Stiles is six months pregnant and Peter is having his first heat since Stiles conceived. No one is surprised by the fall out, but it doesn't make it any easier to cope with.





	

Three days of not sleeping and four days of sleeping like shit was where Stiles drew the line. If he wasn’t listening to Peter’s low quiet growl, in his sleep, the son of a bitch was so wound up he was growling in his sleep, then he was hearing Chris breathing hard out through his nose, sighing, moving around, bumping him which made him bump Peter, which just made Peter growl again, all while Stiles couldn’t get comfortable in first place with his stomach swollen like a fucking piñata.

As he packed his bag with a few changes of clothes and laptop, he reminded himself, he loved them. They were good guys.

They were just occasionally fucking stupid, like everyone, but lucky for him, he wasn’t stuck there. He could go to his very loving father’s and sleep in his childhood bed, blessedly alone, with as many pillows as he wanted to cushion his stomach, and his back. His eyes were dragging at the thought alone.

As he walked down the stairs, he looked around for Chris or Peter. Neither of them were in the living room, so he went quickly to the front door. Was it shitty to not tell them he was leaving? Probably. But it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to call and it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to come back as soon as Peter was over his heat.

He almost had the front door handle then he heard footsteps.

“Stiles?”

“Fuck,” Stiles said, his shoulders sagging as Chris touched his back. He was so fucking tired he could cry. He could literally cry from exhaustion. “I’m just going to Dad’s for a few days. You guys just do what you have to do, fight it out, fuck it out, I don’t care.”

Then his fucking eyes were watering. One of the twins moved inside him, like banging on his sore goddamn ribcage was going to help.

“You don’t have to go. If you need to sleep, we’ll go to a hotel.”

“Yeah? Good luck getting that feral fuck in the car with you. I just don’t get why he did this. We all knew it was a bad idea, all of us fucking knew,” He said.

Chris frowned before hugging him tightly. Stiles turned in to his cheek. His beard smelled almost as strongly of his own unique scent as his pubes did. So many of his needy little hormones mellowed just at breathing it in.

“He’s hard-headed.”

“Yeah well I hope he’s fucking happy.”

“We both know he’s not,” Chris said, leaning his cheek on Stiles’s head. “This is so hard for him, Stiles.”

“I know it is,” Stiles said, pulling away. “I’m not fucking stupid.”

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. Chris was getting the verbal shit beaten out of him by a hormonal pregnant omega at one turn and at another by one in heat that clearly fucking didn’t want to be in heat. If he were him, he’d be the one booking a hotel room, alone, turning off his phone, and ignoring them both.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, hugging Chris again. “God you’d think these little shits were his for all the bitching they make me do.”

“No I’m pretty sure they came by it naturally.”

When Stiles pulled away, he smiled at Chris, who bumped his finger beneath his jaw.

“Love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll text when I get there. I’ll call tonight.”

“Okay,” Chris said.

“Where are you going?”

Stiles deflated, turning again, but this time to Peter coming down the hallway. His t-shirt was off, his chest flushed down to his stomach.

“To my dad’s for a few days.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” he asked, looking at Chris like it was somehow his fault instead of Stiles’s idea.

Stiles rubbed his face then his bag was being pulled from his shoulder. He started to say something before Peter pulled the strap onto his own shoulder and gestured for Stiles to open the door.

It was chilly outside, but Peter didn’t seem to feel it, being a wolf and being in heat would do that though. Stiles watched him as they walked to the Mercedes, the Jeep placed on sabbatical while he was pregnant. He didn’t know how Chris hadn’t just gotten a hold of him yet. He looked fucked out and beautiful. He smelled good. If Stiles wasn’t harboring two parasites he would’ve been fucking him.

“You know you’re being a fucking dick,” Stiles said, as Peter loaded his bag in the backseat. “If you don’t want this, you should’ve taken your suppressants.”

Peter’s lip barely lifted.

“This little cat and mouse bullshit you guys like to play is normally pretty sweet, but it’s gone way passed that. Now it’s hospital time or do what you gotta do so I can get some sleep before I kill you both. No one would convict me.”

Peter snorted as he opened the driver’s side door before leaning forward and kissing Stiles. Peter was far in. His spit was sweet, just enough to make them kiss like teenagers in the goddamn driveway, his hormones strong enough to make another omega half-hard.  

When they stopped, Stiles kept his forehead to Peter’s. He could feel his elevated temperature. His body kicked in to gear like it was possible for it to help create and house a little being they all knew it couldn’t.

“He just wants to help,” Stiles said.

Peter leaned in to kiss him again, opening his mouth and pulling him in again before he stepped away.

“Be careful. I need all three of you in one piece.”

Stiles brushed his nose against Peter’s before pulling himself in, letting Peter close it behind him. Before the car was in reverse he watched Peer walked back up the stairs and into the house.

 

 

When Stiles pulled into his dad’s driveway, John came from the front door. He jogged a little to keep Stiles from opening the back door of the car.

“I got it, I got it,” John said, stepping around him and grabbing Stiles’s bag.

“Oh my god, I am pregnant. Not dying,” Stiles said, as he walked toward the house, but his back really did hurt like a son of a bitch. No one warned him about that. Or about how his pants always felt like they were about to slip off his growing stomach and down his ass, leaving him with his jeans around his ankles.

“And cranky apparently,” John said, closing the car door and following him.

Stiles frowned, pulling open the screen door and walking into his dad’s warm house. He had the fireplace going in the living room. It smelled like burning wood. Stiles’s eyes started to drag even harder.

“Sorry. I didn’t sleep.”

“At all?”

“For the last three days. I swear to fucking God I could kick Peter in his fucking balls. I get it, he’s upset, he’s hormonal, but he knew that was going to happen!”

John looked at Stiles, his eyebrows rising slightly before he sat Stiles’s bag on the couch. “Well good thing you can stay here then while they work it out.”

“How hard is it to just let Chris fuck him?”

“I’d rather not hear about Chris fucking anyone if it’s all the same to you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. I’m tired. They suck. I want my bed. I want these little shits out of me and here. Done. I’m pregnant and fat and done.”

John laughed slightly before he squeezed Stiles’s shoulder. “Jesus, you sound like your mom. Go get some sleep. I’ll order some food here in a bit.”

“If it isn’t greasy and terrible for me, I don’t want it,” Stiles said.

“Noted. How about you try to come down in a better mood?”

Stiles rolled his neck, taking a deep breath. He was being moody. He was aware of that. It wasn’t like any of this was his dad’s fault.

“Sorry. I’ll feel better after I get some sleep.”

“I’m sure you will,” John said, sitting in his recliner and grabbing the remote. “Hop to it, buddy.”

Stiles hopped nowhere. He pulled himself up the stairs, using the railing more than he ever had in his life, the heavy unstable weight of his stomach throwing off his balance. When he reached the top floor, he kick off his shoes, and crawled straight into bed, ignoring the nearly constant need to pee and trying to sleep. Without an angsty alpha on one side and an angry omega on the other, it was a lot easier than he thought possible.

 

 

 

As soon as the Chris heard the Mercedes’s ignition roll over, it was drowned under the slam of the front door as Peter came back into the living room.

“Why did he leave?”

Chris looked up from the TV, looking at Peter. His skin was even more red from the cold. He swallowed back the spit pooling in his mouth at the smell of him.

“He needs some sleep.”

“And he can’t sleep here?”

“Our bed hasn’t exactly been the most relaxing place in the world.”

“He could’ve slept in the guest room. I could have,” Peter said.

“He’s really susceptible to your mood swings right now-.”

“So it’s my fault?”

Chris dropped his face forward rubbing into his closed eyelids. “Peter, stop it.”

A loud sharp growl snapped through the room before Peter was leaving. Chris felt his own eyes shift, the TV screen glowing overly clear as his sense of smell intensified. Peter was two days into his full heat. They should have been fucking with each other last week, Peter baiting him, and shoving him away, the game getting more and more breakable until Peter was ready and all the biting and growling turned to kissing and low sweeter noises.

Instead, last week had been a train wreck of Chris trying to initiate what they always did, playing, prepping how wolves did for a heat, and Peter was more violent in the rebuffs. He had a bite mark on his arm for a full day after Peter bit him on the couch for touching his thigh. Then he should’ve taken his suppressants, but Peter ignored him and Stiles when they said it.

Now half of Chris was aching, because his pregnant omega was out of the den. His logical mind knew he was safe. He was with his dad. He was still with pack. Another part of him wanted to use that against Peter, coerce him into either going to the hospital or just letting him fuck him so Stiles could come home.

Instead, he went into the kitchen, made two sandwiches and took one of the plates upstairs to the bedroom. Their door was closed and he knocked softly before pressing it open.

“I made you a sandwich.”

“Put it on the dresser,” Peter said.

Chris stepped into the room and was slammed with the rich warm scent of Peter. His cock leaked into his underwear as he throbbed. He could smell how wet Peter was. He was laying in their bed, his arm over his eyes. Chris went closer, setting the plate on the bedside table. He heard Peter’s quiet growl as he came closer than he was supposed to.

“Peter,” he said, touching Peter’s hair. It was sweat soaked at the roots.

“Don’t touch me,” Peter said, his lips wrinkling back and showing his pointed canines.

Chris tightened his fingers in Peter’s hair angling his head back before moving his arm away from his eyes. Peter’s growl turned to a snarl, his chest rising and falling harder.

“Why are you doing this?” Chris asked, looking down at Peter’s eyes, completely golden. Against his reddened cheeks and neck they were even more beautiful. Everything about him was pulling at Chris, all of his instincts wanted to move closer, smoother his omega, fuck him, make love to him, try to breed him.

Even when Peter didn’t speak, he knew and it twisted in his chest like a living thing.

He wanted to spit out an ultimatum. Hospital or let them do what they needed to do, because he didn’t take his suppressants. Because he wanted Stiles home, but looking in Peter’s face at the snarl that was nerve racking and heartbreaking at the same time. After a long moment, it faltered and Chris loosened his hold on his hair, running his fingers softly through it.

“I’ll be downstairs.”

Peter nodded.

“I love you,” Chris said.

Peter’s lips twisted down. His dimples denting his cheeks. “I know.”

Chris cupped his cheek before he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

 

 

As the night progressed, there weren’t enough candles in the house to light to block the scent of Peter. Chris tried, but they made his nose run and his head pound as he tried to focus on the TV. His attention span was too zapped to focus on working. He was hyper aware of every noise upstairs even under the sound of the TV.

Six months ago, Peter’s heat triggered Stiles’s. They spent four days fucking, licking, and kissing each other until they were exhausted. He could still picture Stiles and Peter kissing, their skin flushed and red, taking care of each other between Chris being able to fuck them again.

Now Peter had been looking at Stiles’s stomach for the last two weeks like it was a disease. He was treating Chris like he was the infector. Acting like he had not been a major positive participant in the conversation about trying for a family.

Part of him wanted to go tell Peter exactly what an asshole he was being. He had wanted this. He didn’t get to want it and then turn on Stiles. But he couldn’t do it. Not when he could smell how under the anger, Peter just hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to make it worse. Even if it did get Stiles home sooner.

Instead, he sat and waited, his nose running, and hoping each creak upstairs would finally be Peter coming down to tell him what he wanted to do.

 

 

It was after nine when Chris’s phone rang. He picked it up, answering when he saw Stiles’s name and picture on the screen. He smiled despite the achiness through his body.

“Hey, did you get some sleep?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel like a person again,” Stiles said with a little laugh. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was a dick.”

“It isn’t like you didn’t have a reason to be.”

“I really don’t, actually. I’m just being a hormonal dick. I know exactly why he’s doing this. It has to suck for him.”

“I’m sure it does, but it wasn’t like this was an accident.”

“No, but still,” Stiles said. “I did get to eat pizza though. Don’t tell Peter.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Chris said, smiling slightly.

Peter had gone a little overboard on the _what Stiles should be eating_ train. Just a few weeks ago it had resulted in Stiles yelling at Peter to fuck off and just let him eat his Butterfinger and drink the tiny amount of Coke he had poured for himself.

He understood why Stiles was pissed. He probably would’ve ripped Peter’s head off way before that for the way he had been policing his diet, but it didn’t stop him from catching Peter later and hugging him until Peter’s barely there shaking had stopped and he had just given a weak huff against his throat like he could have cried then, but he was holding it back.

“Is he feeling any better?” Stiles asked a little quieter.

“He’s still in the bedroom.”

“Still won’t let you near him?”

“No.”

“I don’t know how he’s doing that. He has to feel like shit.”

“He does.”

“But I’m sure you don’t feel great either.”

“I’ll survive. I just wish he’d tell me if he wants to go to the hospital.”

“Yeah, but then that would make things easy,” Stiles said.

Chris laughed slightly, even though it wasn’t really funny, but it was exhausting. He was just ready for it to be over. One way or another.

“Maybe you should just go upstairs with him?” Stiles asked.

“If he doesn’t come down soon I will. I don’t want to push.”

“Fuck up or not, maybe that’s what he’s wanting. Otherwise he would’ve just gone and gotten the shot.”

“Maybe,” Chris said.

“Let me know how it goes. I don’t want to be here. It doesn’t feel right being away from you guys.”

“No it doesn’t. We’ll get it sorted out. Promise.”

“Okay. Good. I love you. I love him too.”

“Love you too. Talk to you soon,” Chris said.

When Stiles said goodbye, he hung up the phone. Less than a minute later, he heard the bedroom door come open upstairs, then he creak as Peter came down the stairs. He growled quietly, then Chris heard him blowing out the candles.

“It smells like you’re trying to cover up a meth lab,” Peter said. “Was that Stiles?”

“Yes.”

“Did he take his vitamins with him?”

“I’m sure he did,” Chris said.

“Did you ask?”

“No.”

Peter growled again before he went into the kitchen. Chris pushed himself up from the couch and followed him. Chris leaned against the bar counter as Peter shifted through the fridge. There was a low constant rumble from Peter. If his hearing wasn’t as good, if he wasn’t so attuned to every inch of Peter’s body at the moment, he wouldn’t have heard it. Then he slammed the fridge door and turned back around. The light above the sink caught his eyes, flashing on them before they dulled again.

“Peter,” he said.

He growled. He batted something in the sink, making everything clatter.

“Bend over the table,” he said.

“Go fuck yourself,” Peter said, his long teeth visible.

Chris inhaled, he made it visible enough for Peter to see. He heard his growl resonate.

“Bend over or we’re going to the hospital,” Chris said.

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Then bend over.”                                                                                                            

“Are you going to make me?”

They were some of the first words Peter had spoken to him in two days. They were deep and guttural, because his throat was dry, he was probably dehydrated. He could smell how wet he was. It was leaking through his pants, making the fabric stick to his thighs.

“Is that what you want?”

Peter stared at him before barely nodding. When Chris stepped forward and took his arm, he still flinched before Chris grabbed him by the scruff and he went weak. His skin was almost too hot to touch. When he had him positioned how he wanted, Chris slid Peter’s underwear down. They clung to his thighs before they came free and fell to the floor.

Chris moved close enough for Peter to feel the warmth of him through his jeans. Peter’s back expanded hard, pressing his forehead to the table. He moved his hand up the back of Peter’s bare thigh, his fingertips touching dried slick before he felt the warm wetness of new liquid closer to his opening.

Peter growled again as Chris slid his finger up to his wet soft hole and slipped his two fingers inside. Either Peter had been fucking himself or he was just this far along. Not even tight anymore, just ready.

“Tell me no now if you don’t want it.”

The lines of Peter’s back were tense, but he didn’t move. Chris slid his hand up his spine before he moved closer. He unzipped his jeans and pushed down his underwear just enough to get his dick out before he pressed his dick against where Peter was warm and giving to the pressure.

Peter growled again when the muscle gave and he sank inside his overly heated body. Peter’s shoulders coiled, his lip raising as he clenched his fist. He would’ve thought it hurt if his scent didn’t spike and he didn’t make a weak small noise behind his clenched teeth.

Chris moved his hands up to his ribs, gaining leverage as he started to move in and out of him. Peter’s breathing changed, like he was trying to keep it even, but he was entirely too far along to help it.

“It’s okay. Relax,” Chris said, moving over him to kiss his shoulders and neck.

He could still feel him growling. It was like a hive of bees pressed against his chest. It stuttered with each thrust into him. Chris pulled back enough to flip him, rolling Peter over before shoving back into his body before Peter could move. His eyes were glowing completely yellow. Chris leaned over him again, breathing hard against his throat where his scent was strongest.

Then Peter shifted his legs until his knees were pressed to Chris’s sides, letting him go deeper. Chris watched his eyes squeeze shut as he tilted up his chin like every movement he made was against his will. His hands slid over Chris’s arms, up to his shoulder until his wet loose mouth found Chris’s.

Chris kissed him back, shoving deeper as he tasted how sweet he was. He dug his fingers harder into Peter’s skin as a deep rumble started in his own chest. When Peter moaned into his mouth, Chris threaded his fingers into his hair, kissing him deeper, fucking him deeper as Peter kept making small cut off moans.

They hadn’t been alone for a heat in over four years. Stiles’s heat always triggered Peter’s or Peter’s always triggered Stiles’s. It was wonderful. He loved having them both. He loved Stiles just as much as he loved Peter, but there was something about having him alone. The nostalgia. Like they were fifteen years younger, stupid and so in love it hurt. It still hurt how much he loved Peter. It hurt that he hurt, but the feeling of his body was still wonderful, he still smelled like his omega he had known and loved for years.

It felt good to have Peter wrap his arms around him, to feel his lips and know that he could kiss him for as long as he wanted. It was only them and he could just focus on Peter. When he felt the first bite of Peter’s nails into his back, he bit his lower lip softly, pressing in harder and faster.

Then he pushed Chris away slightly so he could talk.

“Don’t knot,” Peter said, moving his hips away.

“Are you sore?”

“No. There’s no point.”

Chris fucked into Peter harder, pressing down on his hips to keep him in place. Peter started to move away again, but Chris put his weight down against him.

“There’s no fucking point,” Chris said, leaning over his body until he was holding Peter by his throat. Not nearly enough to cut off his oxygen, just enough to make him go still. “Move back on me and gape.”

Peter growled.

“Now,” Chris said, yanking him by his hips as he felt Peter’s opening flex. Then the muscle twitched just enough for Chris to push forward, getting his swollen base inside of him and feeling it lock. Peter made a weak choked noise, his eyes watering. Chris felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest as he kissed him again and again.

“This is the point,” he said, breathing harshly as Peter’s insides milked him. He felt every shake as Peter climaxed with harsh weak noises that made him wish he could stop.

“I haven’t fucked you during a heat to get pregnant in over fifteen years. This is why I do it,” Chris said, holding his shoulder tightly as he pressed deeper and felt Peter exhale hard. “I do it for the same reason I’m with you, because you’re beautiful and I love you.”  

He could feel his hard breathing, feel each and every contraction of his body drawing his cum farther into his body where it would create nothing and he didn’t care. He had never cared. He loved Peter if he could have kids or if he couldn’t. If Stiles had never come into their lives, he would’ve been okay with never having children.

“That’s it,” Chris said between kissing Peter’s face. “I love Stiles. I love that we’re going to have a family, but don’t ever question how much I love you.”

Peter snarled softly before leaning up into the nook of Chris’s shoulder, holding on to his neck.

“You know how good this feels.”

Peter’s small snarl turned to a soft vibration. “It does.”

Then he felt Peter’s deep staggered anger faltered and he just clung to him. He nuzzled his throat, kissed his jaw, his nails turning to softer touching. Every omega instinct he had been hold back coming out in a wave as he smelled his throat, like he wanted Chris’s scent just as badly as he needed his.

After the first time, Peter turned to putty. He wasn’t on the verge of being aggressive like he normally was. He went where Chris directed him, went into the positions he wanted, didn’t move much except to nuzzle, to kiss, and touch. His hips stayed mostly still, leaving Chris to do the work. He mostly worked himself with his hand until his knot swelled, then worked it into Peter gently so he could get the hormones he needed to make the heat end.

It was their fourth time, finally in their bed when Peter laid on top of him. He was tired. They were both tired. It had been nearly six hours since the first time and there hadn’t really been a break. But with Peter starting late, he seemed to need him almost immediately after his knot deflated. It seemed to be okay. Chris’s body was responding the same way, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.

Chris slid his arms around Peter, holding him close as Peter tucked his face against Chris’s neck and cried. Other than the barely there hitch of his breathing and the wetness on his skin, he wouldn’t have known. There was no sound, no words.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said against his ear, feeling Peter’s body clench around him, drawing his cum farther into his body. It used to be fun. It took time after the miscarriages, but this had become fun again, loving, and a release, now it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest as he smelled Peter’s pain

Then he felt Peter clench his jaw and heard the gritted-out sob.

“It still hurts.”

“I know,” Chris said, against his ear, running his hand over his nape.

“I would’ve been a good dad. It isn’t fair.”

Chris squeezed his eyes closed, swallowing hard as he tried to draw Peter closer to him. “It wasn’t fair. You would have been amazing,” he said. “But you’re still going to be a father,” he said softly, carefully.

He felt Peter’s teeth against his skin, the squeeze as he cried harder for a few heartbeats before he drew a deep shaky breath.

“I just wanted them to be mine.”

Chris squeezed him. It was the truth they had all known and no one had said, because it somehow felt wrong, even when it wasn’t. He could still remember how it felt fourteen years ago when he was in bed beside Peter while he slept, breathing in the scent of him pregnant, loving it, wanting to roll in it. He remembered how it smelled as Peter started to bleed while he slept and Chris hadn’t woken him up. He had just laid and waited, smelling Peter’s contentment, his happiness, as their third child left his body before it was even ten weeks along.

“I wanted mine,” Peter said, his hot breath against Chris’s neck. “I still think about what they would’ve looked like and it kills me. I wanted to hold something you and I made. I wanted to see their faces, but I’m fucking worthless.”

It was the hormones. He knew that majority of it was the hormones, because they had talked about this. Peter knew his worth wasn’t tied to if he could have child or not, but that didn’t matter now.

“No you aren’t,” Chris said, urging his face up until he could look Peter in the eyes. “You can’t carry children. That’s it. You aren’t worthless. You’re everything to me. Everything.”

“If it was only me, you never would’ve been a dad,” Peter said.

“I never wanted to be a dad if it meant you weren’t going to be with me,” Chris said softly. “I wish I could’ve seen you gain weight, that I could’ve dealt with your cravings, and mood swings. I loved the smell when you carried them. You’re right. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.”

“It happened so long ago,” Peter said, large tears still sliding down his cheeks. “I should be over it.”

“It can’t be easy seeing Stiles having what you wanted.”

“I love him,” Peter said. “I love the babies too.”

“I know you do,” Chris said, his own eyes burning. “That still doesn’t make it easy.”

“I’m a bad person,” Peter said, taking another deep hard breath. “The first time? Twins. And no problems. I never wanted him to have complications, but it hurts.”

“I know. It has to.”

Then Peter moved forward again, laying his cheek again Chris’s shoulder. His breathing still stilted once a minute or so.

“I might get a hysterectomy,” Peter said quietly. “I don’t know if I can do this again.”

“We’ll do whatever you want,” Chris said, kissing his forehead.

Peter rubbed his cheek against Chris’s shoulder. His overly warm body felt like a heated blanket against the low temperature of the house. Slowly, Chris felt himself soften and slip from Peter’s body. He shifted slightly to pull the blankets over them, he didn’t know Peter was asleep until he felt his soft nuzzling against his skin and his tired noise.

Heats were the only time he could deal with having Stiles or Peter on him all night. Then he didn’t even feel the smallest urge to get away. He held Peter close beneath the comforter, feeling his back rising and falling softly beneath his hands. In a few hours, they would need to go again, probably a few more times, but that would be okay. It may be the last heat he ever shared with Peter and he would savor what he could of it.

 

 

 

 

Twenty-four hours later, Chris met Stiles at the front door as he came in, taking his bag from his shoulder. Stiles smiled. The house already smelled so much better. Chris looked better, even when he looked like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet.

“So where’s Peter?” Stiles asked.

“He’s upstairs. Sleeping it off.”

“Look at you,” Stiles said, giving Chris a slight push. “Getting an in-heat omega in the sack. What a stud.”

Chris snorted. “Go upstairs and roll in the bed sheets like you know you want to.”

“Fine. I will,” Stiles said, kissing Chris before he went up the stairs. He could smell the faint traces of hormones from what was probably strong as fuck yesterday. Stiles kicked off his shoes as he opened the bedroom door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Peter said, looking at him with a weak smile. He was obviously naked, so Stiles stripped down before crawling into bed with him. The sheets were still overly warm. It felt like a nest. Every needy omega hormone that had been raging mellowed. One of the twins moved more, like it knew they were home, like it knew they were close to one of their fathers. Peter smiled softly at his stomach, laying his hand where the movement was visible. One of the boys bumped against his hand harder.

“They were really still at Dad’s house. They moved a little at night like they always do, but nothing like this,” Stiles said. “It’s insane. They fucking eat you up.”

Peter smiled slightly larger, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I can’t wait to see them.”

“Me either. They need to get out of there. They’re beating me up from the inside out.”

Peter laughed slightly before he just moved closer. Stiles dropped the smile, kissing Peter’s cheek, then his temple as he put his arm around him. Peter’s hand rested on his stomach, his own flat one against his, undoubtedly feeling the subtle movements of the babies inside of him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter said quietly.

“I’m sorry this is hard,” Stiles whispered.

“They’re going to be worth it,” Peter said softly.

“Well yeah, they’re going to be fucking drop dead gorgeous and hellions.”

Peter laughed slightly again. “No they won’t. They’ll be the sweetest babies ever born.”

“Yeah probably for you.”

Peter growled softly before he nuzzled beneath Stiles’s jaw. Stiles kissed over his face softly, petting Peter who still smelled of lingering heat and sweetness. It didn’t make him horny exactly. It just made him want to wrap around Peter like a living blanket, keeping him safe and cozy until he felt better. Unlike normal, Peter just melted into it, his hand slowly moving over Stiles’s stomach, tracing each and every movement with his fingertips.

“Give me a few years. Let these two get a little older and I’ll carry one for you and Chris, if you even want that, I would do it in a heartbeat. I want to,” Stiles whispered.

Peter opened his eyes and stared at him, his dark blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes before he nodded then tucked back down against Stiles’s throat. Stiles held him by the back of his neck. Smelling his aching spike again before it mellowed and he was kissing Stiles’s neck softly, touching his stomach again like he was in a trance.

“Thank you,” Peter finally said against his skin.

Stiles found his lips and kissed him again and again until he laid in the same position and just let Peter touch and feel while he came down from his high and the hurt very slowly started to fade.


End file.
